The Transfiguration
by shootski
Summary: FFIV. Short story. What does one do, when the holiest of all known power fails to banish one's own darkness? My first fic. It's another take on that moment at the peak of Mt. Ordeals. Rated T for violence. Any reviews would be greatly appreciated.
1. Holy Light

N.B. Revised! I did this first chapter off the top o' me head, but when I went back and played FFIV again, I found some small changes that I felt needed to be made. Enjoy!

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"The Transfiguration" by shootski

Chapter 1: Holy Light

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His hand, covered in a black-metal gauntlet, extended towards the hilt of the sword as it floated in the air above them. He could feel the power erupting from it, could feel it pierce his very soul. The others stood back, unable to move to help him, or to even divert there eyes as the sword began to glow.

Slowly, almost painstakingly, the sword began to descend. He waited in anticipation as it floated ever closer to his hand. As it approached, the glow enveloping it grew brighter, and brighter still, until it was shining with a blinding white light.

Holy light.

The others were forced to put their hands and arms over their eyes to avoid having them burned out by the light.

He stared right at it, eyes wide in awe and wonder.

It hovered a mere four inches above his outstretched hand.

Then, as if in a dream, he reached up and gripped the sword by the hilt.

As his fingers curled around it, a sudden flash emitted from it, enveloping the mirrored room in light. The others, still covering their eyes, thought they would go blind.

Though neither he nor they could see it, he could feel the Death Sword at his side disintegrating into nothingness.

The piercing light finally began to dim. As the brightness receded, the others removed their hands and arms and rubbed their sore eyes.

Porom was the first to look up. She gasped.

The others followed here wide-eyed gaze to the spot where he had stood. Tellah's eyes went just as wide as Porom's. A huge grin was on Palom's face.

He had changed.

His Dark Armor was gone. In its place was a shining gold and blue breastplate, golden greaves, and what appeared to be a bright gold, almost white, tunic. The armor glowed with a strong white light, reflecting off of the mirrors that made up the room and bathing the whole room with a faint luminescence. A bright gold and crimson cape rested on his shoulders, fluttering in some unfelt, unheard breeze. His right hand still gripped the sword, as it resumed its faint glow. He had no helmet, allowing the others to see his flowing, shoulder-length hair. It was a light-blue, almost silvery-white, color. Somehow, even though no one had seen him previously without his helmet, the others knew it had not been that color before. All of this paled in comparison to one startling aspect: his face. It was a beautiful and terrifying face. It was noble and fearful, peaceful and tormented, calm and furious, forgiving and vengeful, all at once.

Slowly, he slid the Sword of Legend into a finely-worked, bejeweled sheath at his left hip. As the others stared at him, he heaved a slow, heavy sigh of relief. _It is done_, he thought to himself.

After seven grueling hours climbing the Mountain of Ordeals, and a fight to the death with the Fiend of Earth, Cecil Harvey had attained the Sword of Legend and transformed into the legendary Paladin.

And yet...

The darkness remained.

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"Way to go, dude!" Palom slapped Cecil good-naturedly on the back.

"...that was amazing..." Porom was still trying to come to grips with what had just happened.

"Congratulations, Cecil!" Tellah beamed at him.

Cecil could hear them praising him, and his mouth smiled, but his mind was in a different place. His body certainly felt different, to be sure, filled with new powers and abilities, but his soul still suffered from the torments of the evil that plagued him. He had thought that the holy magic of the Sword would cleanse him, but the evil remained inside him, taunting him, distracting him, hoping for the day when he would finally succumb to the darkness.

He knew _that_ was the real reason he had journeyed all this way up the mountain. Of course, he wanted to save Rosa and eliminate Golbez, and the Elder of Mysidia had assured him that this was the only way to do so. But he had climbed the mountain with only one thought rampaging through his mind: to banish his own darkness. But it was still within him.

Many days ago, the king of Baron had sent him on that fateful mission to the town of Mist. After the package had exploded, and the Bomb had reduced the peaceful town to a pile of smoldering cinders, he had realized that the darkness within him had begun to take hold of his consciousness. No, it was even before that. It had all started on that mission to Mysidia to obtain the Crystal. He had begun to question his king's motives and actions. For this, the king had stripped him of command of the Red Wings. Yes, it was at this time that Cecil had recognized the darkness.

He had realized how all of the Dark Knights had the darkness within them, that it was what caused them to be who they were. He had remembered all of the renowned Dark Knights of the past, and, looking on them with his new discoveries, had seen how they were nothing more than raging demons, with no other purpose than to kill and destroy. It was clear that the king had full knowledge of this darkness, and that it was for this reason alone that the kingdom of Baron had risen to its prosperous heights. How the king was able to conceal such damning acts from the people of Baron, Cecil didn't think he would ever know. All that he had known was that, rather than embracing the darkness, as all the other great ones of his kind had, he had begun to shun it.

It revolted him. It sickened him. It terrified him.

It was beginning to destroy him.

He knew that he wasn't a true Dark Knight.

He had embarked on his quest to defeat Golbez, not only to protect his world and to save his friends, but to try and atone for the evils he had committed under both the command of the Red Wings and the influence of the darkness.

After the incident at Fabul, their king had offered him the Death Sword, a weapon of a Dark Knight who had passed through many years ago. His hands had shaken uncontrollably as he took it. He knew that it fed off of, and amplified, the darkness within him, giving the sword unholy powers like no other. Still, he had taken it, hoping that it would give him the strength to defeat Golbez and thereby atone for his sins.

That had changed when he had arrived at Mysidia. The Elder had told him that his Death Sword would never prevail against the darkest, most evil of enemies - of which Golbez was certainly one. When the Elder of Mysidia had told him of the Mountain of Ordeals and what was at the peak, he was reluctant at first, remembering Rosa, and how she was being held by Golbez, and in danger every minute that she was not with him. But finally, his will to be rid of the darkness had overcome his reluctance, and he had agreed to do it. That was when the twin mages Palom and Porom had joined him.

On the way up, they had met Tellah the wizard, who Cecil had had an encounter with previously, and they learned of his quest to obtain the deadliest and most powerful of all black arts, the Meteor spell, to avenge his daughter's death at the hands of Golbez. He had joined them.

Just before the peak, one of the Four Fiends had attacked them. Milon, the Fiend of Earth, had been sent by Golbez to do away with them. As they struck down his body, thinking him dead, and turned to continue, Milon had risen, drawing from the powers of darkness, and flew at them again.

As they fought for a second time, Cecil could sense the darkness in Milon. It was causing him to fight with blind and almost feral rage, even in his preemptive desire to kill them. Cecil could see it in his eyes as they battled. What had been a composed, almost humorous, visage had degenerated to a wild, hate-filled countenance.

Milon had gone mad.

Finally, they had forced him to the edge of the cliff. As he had tumbled to his doom, the voice of the Elder of Mysidia had passed through Cecil's memory:

"_While you depend upon the dark sword, you cannot overcome true evil . . . you might be consumed by its darkness someday._"

He knew that Milon had succumbed to his own darkness and lost all control.

He was more determined than ever to be rid of the evil. He had been certain that the Sword of Legend would be the key to his freedom from the darkness.

He had been so sure...

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...yet here he stood, with all the powers of a holy warrior, and still a prisoner to darkness.

_Dear spirits, when will I be free?!_

Porom gasped again. "Look at the mirrors!"

Everyone turned to where she was pointing, at the spot on the wall directly behind Cecil. His reflection returned their gazes as the stared with open mouths at it.

Cecil's reflection was wearing Dark Armor.

"...what does it mean?" Tellah whispered to no one in particular.

As they stared at it in shock, the mirrors began to shimmer and wave, as if they were a strange, vertical ocean.

A voice spoke. It came from everywhere, and nowhere.

_My son..._

As one, Cecil and his friends looked up at the ceiling, as if the voice was that of a god.

Cecil hesitantly opened his mouth and, softly, he spoke. It was the first thing he had said since becoming a Paladin.

"...son?"

The disembodied voice spoke again.

_Through much sorrow have I longed for your coming,_ it said. _I shall now entrust you with my power. By doing so, my pain will only grow. But there is no other way._

They were still looking up at the ceiling. No one noticed when Cecil's reflection stepped forward of its own accord.

_Break from your past! Overcome your darkness! Only then will you truly be a Paladin..._

They waited, but the voice didn't speak again.

Porom gasped for a third time.

The rest of the group lowered their eyes.

They saw a Dark Knight standing in front of the rear wall.

Cecil's reflection was gone.

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P.S. Well, there's one or two more chapters to come. I don't want to make too much of a short, but amazing, event of FFIV. Will update soon! All reviews are welcome and appreciated. Thanks!


	2. To Conquer Yourself

N.B. I'm having fun with this whole fanfiction thing.

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"The Transfiguration" by shootski

Chapter 2: To Conquer Yourself

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Slowly, the Dark Knight drew his sword. As it slid free of the sheath, Cecil saw that it was an exact replica of the Death Sword - or else, it was another Death Sword.

The Dark Knight assumed a fighting stance, and waited.

Cecil began to understand. Somehow, he was going to have to defeat this Dark Knight if he was to ever free himself of his darkness. And he was going to have to do it alone.

The twins didn't see it his way.

"You're goin' down!" Palom shouted, and held out his left hand, palm up. A fireball materialized above it, growing larger with each passing moment.

Porom was right behind her twin brother. She unslung her bow from her shoulder and nocked three Holy arrows. Slowly, she drew back the bowstring and aimed, taking her time, leaving nothing to chance.

The Dark Knight remained where he was, still in his fighting stance, without giving any sign that he was going to attempt to evade the imminent attacks.

Just as the twins were about to release their respective attacks . . .

"STOP!"

Porom jumped, startled by the commanding authority of Cecil's voice, almost loosing the trio of arrows in her bow. Palom had his arm cocked back, ready to throw the now-huge fireball.

Cecil turned to face them. "This is MY fight! I must do this alone, to atone for my sins!"

"But you'll need our help!" Porom exclaimed.

A moment of silence followed. Then Tellah spoke.

"Children, do as he says."

Palom rolled his eyes. "Geez, not you too?!"

But Tellah was unmoved. "Put down your weapons." His voice softened. "It is as Cecil says," and here, he locked eyes with Cecil, "he must fight this battle alone."

_So, Tellah understands,_ thought Cecil. Inwardly, he smiled and offered silent thanks to Tellah for knowing that this was how it had to be.

With a worried look on her face, Porom released tension on the bowstring, even more slowly than she had drawn it. Palom grumbled quite audibly, but the fireball disappeared from his hand.

Cecil turned back to the Dark Knight, who hadn't moved from his stance for the duration of the event that had just transpired. He put his hand on the hilt of the Sword of Legend, but didn't draw it. Instead, he closed his eyes and searched inside himself. He could sense power within himself, the holy power that had been bestowed to him upon his transformation. He began drawing from this power, focusing it through his arm, out of his hand, and into the sword.

Across the room, he could also sense the Dark Knight focusing his own power into the Death Sword. His power, however, was that of evil.

They stood twenty feet apart, neither moving, each bringing his power to bear.

Then, with lightning speed, Cecil ripped the sword from its sheath, swinging it in a blindingly fast horizontal arc. A blade of holy light burst from the sword and sliced through the air at the Dark Knight.

At the same time, the Dark Knight thrust his sword forward, sending a wave of dark energy hurtling at the Paladin.

The two powers, light and darkness, collided in the space between them and neutralized each other, dissipating into nonexistence.

A split-second after, Cecil let out a fierce cry and hurtled himself, sword ready, at the Dark Knight, who raised his own sword in anticipation.

The battle had begun.

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Ten minutes into the fight, both Cecil and the Dark Knight were showing no signs of fatigue, and also no signs of finishing any time soon. Palom caught himself yawning. While he knew it had to be dishonorable, if not at least inappropriate, to show any signs of boredom during such an event, but neither side of this competition was winning. Since the start, it had been a complete and utter stalemate.

Each attack that Cecil threw at the was parried. Likewise, every strike the Dark Knight attempted was turned aside. Each combatant drew from his respective power of light or darkness and unleashed fearsome attacks that would have annihilated a regular person. And like the first pair of blade-flash attacks that began the battle, each of the devastating attacks cancelled the other.

As the battle hit the twenty-minute mark, both fighters were still going strong. Neither had wounded the other. But Porom and Tellah were getting worried. They knew that one of the fighters, whether or not it turned out to be Cecil, should have gained the advantage by now.

Palom was just getting bored. He yawned again, and this time he didn't bother to hide it. Porom bopped him on the head.

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Cecil screamed in frustration as he delivered a mighty blow that would have severed a man, only to have it turned away like all the others. He tried another blade-flash attack - he had done it enough times by now to be able to release it in an instant - but the Dark Knight sent out yet another dark wave and nullified it. Cecil had barely enough time to bring up his sword to defend against a sudden fierce onslaught from the Dark Knight.

As they battled up and down the room, Cecil began to realize an important aspect of his opponent. He knew, with increasing certainty, what his enemy truly was. Every time Cecil blocked one of the Dark Knight's attacks, he could feel it, not only in his arms as they absorbed the strikes, but in his _soul_. He could feel the darkness within him, striking at his own soul, combating against the holy light that now filled it. In addition, whenever his attacks were blocked by the Dark Knight, he could feel the holy power within him slashing out at the darkness.

Cecil now knew that the Dark Knight he was facing was nothing more than a manifestation of his inner torments. _How fitting that it should choose to present itself as a Dark Knight,_ Cecil thought ruefully as he blocked yet another blow, feeling the tremor of his soul as it warded off the identical attack from the darkness within him.

As the fight streched on, minute by minute, Cecil was growing desperate. He knew that if he didn't conquer the darkness soon, it would consume him whole. This thought alone drove him on. His strikes became more savage. So did the Dark Knight's. He moved faster than he ever thought he could. The Dark Knight kept right up with him.

Cecil screamed again, but this time, it was a scream of pure fury and hatred. His mind burned with the single, dominating presence of one single thought:

_I WILL DESTROY THE DARKNESS!!!!!!_

He reached into his soul to draw out more power, enough power to blast the manifestation of his evils into oblivion.

There was no power.

Panicking, he searched furitively, not truly beliving that it was gone. But indeed, it was.

"LOOK OUT!!!" Porom screamed.

On instinct, Cecil jumped to the side, and a huge wave of evil power zoomed past his head, almost taking it off in the process.

He scrambled to his feet, still searching inside himself for the holy power he needed, but with the growing resignation of the fact that it was not there. He wondered if it was a limited quantity, and had been used up.

At the same time, he realized that the dark wave that had nearly beheaded him was many times larger than all the previous ones.

It was bad enough that he had lost his own power, but now his darkness had even more?

The balance of power between the two combatants had shifted. Cecil knew that if he didn't do something to tip the scale in his favor, he was going to lose this fight . . .

. . . and the darkness would have his soul.

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P.S. That was fun! I didn't think I could write action sequences. Thanks to the few reviewers that have given me feedback. Your positive criticism has motivated me greatly, and I think that writing fanfics may develop into a serious hobby! Thanks, again. Chapter 3 in a week or so, after finals. (Da-da-duuuuuuummm...)


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